It’s Not Just Wrestling.

I’ve been sitting here for the last 40+ minutes trying to figure out how I should begin this particular blog post. I know in my heart what I want to say but when I type the words it just turns to shit because this is about something very near and dear to me personally and finding the words needed to do it justice seem fucking impossible.

But fuck it. Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go and see what happens and in this case also keep it simple. So here goes.

Professional Wrestling has been a part of my life in one form or another since 1985. It was the inaugural WrestleMania, I was almost 9 years old and it was love at first sight. The beginning of a relationship that has endured to this very day.

When times have been tough pro wrestling has always been there for me to provide a safe place where I could retreat and not have to worry about the troubles I was facing from the outside world. Whether it was relationship bullshit, the death of a loved one or my own crippling anxieties and depression.

But a couple of years ago I can honestly say that professional wrestling saved my life. I won’t go into the gritty details but the particular situation I was going through was without a doubt the lowest time in my life. I was having a hard time dealing with things and I was constantly angry. Angry at GOD, at myself and at life in general. It got to a point where I started to question my very existence in this world and wondering why the fuck was I even here. Very few people know this but during this time I seriously considered “ending my watch” so to speak. Even though taking my own life is something that I’d never go through with, it doesn’t change the fact that I had those terrible thoughts and they were very real. The path to self destruction was in front of me and I was in a place so dark that I didn’t think I had any hope of getting out of it in one piece.

During this time simply watching wrestling on TV wasn’t doing jack shit to destract me from my troubles as it had in the past because a) I was too far gone mentally and emotionally and b) WWE television kinda sucked at the time quite frankly.

Even though my usual escape route was blocked, the universe works in mysterious ways and wrestling still found a way to save my ass. I was able to direct all the pent up anger and frustration that consumed me at the time and focus it on something positive. Creative writing.

I joined a Fantasy Wrestling Federation (don’t judge me ok). The premise of this wrestling nerdfest was fairly simple. Virtual matches were booked between 2 “wrestlers”, a series of promos were then written by both participants hyping the match and basically talking smack to one another. Once the promos had been written and posted online the other members of the Federation would cast anonymous votes based on who they thought wrote the best promos. A third party was tasked to write up the “match” and the winner was determined by whoever received the most votes. Nobody knew the results until the “match” had been written and released (trust me it was fun). It was also here where I met my “Clique”, Beej, Nikka and Badstreet and we remain friends to this day.

Here’s an example of the types of promos that were written, with this particular one by me when my character was going to be the special referee in an upcoming match. It’s pretty much just me taking the piss and blatantly ripping off The Rock:
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*backstage, The Dude is talking on his cell phone, but something is different, he is wearing a JUST BRING IT! Shirt with black sweatpants and sunglasses, he also has on some kind of wig and black electrical tape on the side of his head looking like sideburns and some on his eyebrow which is at a weird angle*

Dude: “You heard what The Dude said, The Dude said that! You watch the show? Hey listen, the fact of the matter is this: if Spiller or Scotty doesn’t like what The Dude said, then Spills and Scotty can march their yambags right there to the Yanceydome, The Dude’s home away from home, get right in the middle of the ring, and tell The Dude face to face they didn’t like it. It’s just that simple! It’s real easy, you know that, baby! Yeah! That pie ready? All right. And stop bothering me at work, you know that, baby! The lovin’s gonna have to wait ’till the business is done! Damn, I got a big match to referee! Alright, bye.”

*Dude hangs up, mutters something about Management, then picks up his guitar and starts strumming*

*The Coach is knocking on the door to The Clique’s locker room. Eventually, Dude opens the door*

Coach: “Hey, Dude, what’s going on-”

Dude: “Are you on crack, Coach? Are you on crack!? What are you doing!? What are you doing!?”

Coach: “I just want to get a word with you before the big match-”

Dude: “You can’t get a word with The Dude! That’s not the way it works, you know that! You don’t just knock on The Clique’s locker room like that, the Clique’s Locker Room! You know that! You already know that! Do you have an appointment to speak to The Dude, is that it?”

Coach: “Dude, we go back-”

Dude: “‘Back, bababa, ba ba!’ Shut up, Coach! Let The Dude check The Clique’s Palm Pilot! Ka-kow!” *looks at an invisible palm pilot in his hand* “How’s Wednesday?”

Coach: “Wednesday doesn’t work for me-”

Dude: “Wednesday works! You and your Dude wannabe haircut get out of The Dude’s face! Who cut your hair, Ray Charles? Beat it! Wash your butt!” *goes back into his locker room* “The Dude can’t be dealin’ with that! The Dude has got a very big night, millions and millions of The Dude’s fans waiting for him!” *crowd boos* “The Dude said, millions and millions of The Dude’s fans waiting for him!!! Where’s The Dude’s guitar? The Dude has gotta sooth his soul, The Dude has gotta sing a song!! The Dude has gotta sing a song, baby!”

*opens a curtain in one of the lockers, only to find Twisted sitting inside, staring at him blowing bubbles*

Dude:”…….Excuse The Dude one second.”

*Dude closes the curtain, takes off his sunglasses, scratches his head, then laughs and shakes his head, he opens the curtain again. This time, Twisted is gone*

*The Coach is knocking on the door to The Clique’s locker room again and Dude opens to see what he wants this time.*

Dude: “Go on, Coach, what!?”

Coach: “Well, Dude, I don’t want to break your-”

Dude: “Shut your mouth, they’re chanting The Dude’s name!”

*a couple of drunk guys break into a “Dude!” chant*

Coach: “Well, I don’t want to break your concentration with the big Beej vs Nikka match, but earlier tonight, we did receive a package from The Chairman and COO that contained a video tape intended for you. You want to see it?”

Dude: “A videotape of Spiller and Scotty!? The hell’s the matter with you!? The Dude doesn’t want to see a videotape of Spiller and Scotty! What are they doing Coach? Probably laying naked on a beach, sittin’ there watchin’ Venaskie and Vampyre work out! What, is that what they’re doing!? Like a couple of goofballs cheerin’ on those two spooky freaks, The Dude don’t wanna see that crap! Show it, you probably want to see it! Let’s see Management naked! Ugh, good God!”

*a video package plays showing Venaskie and Vampyre looking dominant in the ring*

Coach: “Well, Dude, rumour has it, and it’s just a rumour, that Venaskie and Vampyre are somewhere in the building tonight, but once again, it’s just a rumour.”

Dude: “‘Just a rumour!’ Who are you, Joan Rivers all of a sudden!? The Dude doesn’t deal with gossip, The Dude deals with facts! And the fact of the matter is this. Fact: The Dude stands before you, and the millions…” *the drunk guys start up again with “AND MILLIONS”* “of Dude’s fans, THE Greatest Guest Referee OF ALL TIME! Fact: The Dude, for one match, has been asked to stand in that ring and watch my two best friends beat the living hell out of each other and call it down the middle. Fact: The Dude is gonna say this one last time, ONE LAST TIME! I will call that match right down the middle and if Venaskie or that crazy Vampyre chick want to get involved Just…bring it!!!” *grabs mic* “If you SMEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL…what The Dude is cookin’!!!!!”

*Dude throws the mic back into Coach’s face*

Coach: “Umm…ahh…. Thanks Dude, let’s cross over to my broadcast colleagues Mene Gene Okerlund and Sean Mooney”
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Now the fantasy wrestling deal didn’t last too long (politics) but from all this nerdy goodness Beej and I came up with the idea to start the Drawing Heat Podcast which inadvertently led to my discovery of Explosive Professional Wrestling (EPW Perth) with the first show we attended being last years Evolution spectacular.

At the time WWE still weren’t really doing anything for me on a personal level and I had kinda lost my mojo for watching professional wrestling but after the Evolution show, holy shit! I had a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time (and no it wasn’t gas).

Professional Wrestling had given me a new lease on life once again and I haven’t had the feelings that haunted me previously ever since.

With this years Evolution only a few weeks away (with a motherfucking steel cage match main event thank you very much!)

I’ve been in a somewhat reflective mood and have been thinking back on the past year since we started the podcast and found EPW. I have come to appreciate that certain things in life happen for a reason and I personally owe a helluva lot to pro wrestling.

Even though I’ve never been privileged enough to actually step foot inside the squared circle I have the utmost respect for the men and women that call themselves professional wrestlers and hope they don’t take offence to what I’m about to say, but I truly believe that after 30 years of living and breathing professional wrestling that it’s in my blood.

To me it’s not about 2 people getting in the ring and rolling around in their underwear as the old cliché goes, it’s way more than that, it’s a feeling. It’s simple yet complicated at the same time and I’m not sure how many of you will comprehend what I’m clumsily trying to say and that’s ok.

But to this self professed wrestling nerd right here it’s not just wrestling…

It’s Life.

– The Dude
http://drawingheat.podomatic.com